


Yours Truly

by bluebeholder



Series: Shell Shock [3]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Epistolary, Everybody Gets a Hug, Historically Accurate Sexual Slang, Idiots in Love, Makeup Sex, Multi, OT3, Post-Coital Cuddling, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 08:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11755824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: Percival is finally going to see Theseus and Credence again, after more than a year of writing letters back and forth to each other. There have been big changes for all of them, and Percival is in for one hell of a surprise when he gets to London.





	Yours Truly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Truetomorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Truetomorrow/gifts), [writingramblr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/gifts), [Crimson_Voltaire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson_Voltaire/gifts).



> First time with a threesome yay!
> 
> All debt to Paradise Fears for their song “[Yours Truly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUANdFZdQVY)”. Certain lines are heavily paraphrased at the end of this fic, as if I am a 13-year-old songfic writer in 2008. And that moment with the comma—heck off with you, I am eternal Hamiltrash.

The ship cuts through the water toward the Port of London. They’re close now, and Percival can hear the distant cacophony of the docks, can see the city haze ahead. To an observer, he would look distant and serene, as calm as if he did this every day. Internally, he’s just sort of screaming. He’s here on this ship because he’s going to visit Theseus and Credence in London. 

Theseus and Credence.

In London. 

It’s June 1928. He hasn’t seen them in a year and a half. Despite all of Theseus’ reassurances, Percival is a nervous wreck. How is it possible that they want to see him? He’s the one who nearly got Credence killed by opening the door that let Grindelwald in. He’s the one who broke Theseus’ heart. He doesn’t know why they invited him to London, but they did.

He thinks of the letters in his suitcase, a bundle that represents a year and a half of far too much emotion and far too much adoration. None of them are his—they’re all the letters that Theseus and Credence have sent to him. Percival can’t think of them without a burning somewhere near his heart. It hurts, like something’s been cut out of him. He knows exactly how that feels, and this certainly compares. 

If he had the time, he’d read them again before he arrives. But, then again, he’s read them so many times already that he might as well have them memorized. 

_February 1927  
 ~~Dear~~ Percival,_

_I have completely bollocksed this letter already but I don’t think I will change it. I don’t intend this to be long or familiar as I’m certain you have no desire whatsoever to hear from me. You will be glad to know that we have arrived safe in London. I have installed Credence in my house here & no one is the wiser. He seems happy enough & asks me to tell you he will write soon. _

_There is not much I can say to close this letter, is there? Don’t feel obliged to keep it. I expect you’ll burn it first chance you get & I’ll deserve it after that stunt I pulled. Tho please do write back to let me know you’ve received this and know that your boy is safe. _

_~~Yours~~ I don’t know how to close this  
Theseus Scamander_

_******* _

_February 1927  
Percival,_

_You are a better man than I because you know I would have sent you photographs of me burning letters if you’d sent them a few years ago & you’d have deserved it, too. I deserve it & ~~I don’t deserve y~~ Sorry about that. Quills are so much messier than your American pens. _

_Credence is doing very well. Looks healthier & is brighter by the day. He rises at 5.00 with me & insists on making breakfast. I have told him that he does not need to repay me but he is not listening. I see why you fell in with him. Your stubbornness put together could stop a tank. I depart for work at 7.30 & Credence remains in the house. It seems his days are all of a sameness kind of thing. However, he tells me that he likes this more than he likes excitement, so I have not pressed. When I return home at 10.00 or so, he is always awake & willing to eat a late supper. He keeps soldier hours, up with the sun & down around midnight. We are neither conversationalists but when he does speak I find him very good. _

_Tho my old schoolbooks are outdated, he reads them constantly. He has mastered most basic spells already; he puts both of us to shame with sheer talent. I am quite proud, tho I have only known him for a short while. It would make him happy if you wrote him on this or any other subject. I think he is nervous of writing to you first._

_No need to reply if you find this letter bothersome._

_~~Y~~  
Theseus Scamander_

_******* _

_February 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_~~I did not expect~~ ~~I wanted~~ I was surprised when you wrote me. I thought you would ~~want to forget about me~~ have more important things to worry about. There is nothing to worry about with me. I am very fine these days. Mr. Scamander is as kind to me as you were. ~~But I don’t lo~~ _

_London is fascinating. I prefer it to New York, esp. when I am among wizards. I have been to Diagon Alley twice now and it is a wonderful place. There is so much magic, Mr. Graves. It is wondrous and strange. ~~I wish you~~ _

_There is nothing much else to say. I am sorry for the messiness of this letter. I am not a very good writer, and I hope you will forgive me for all of the scribbles. I do not like quills much. But I will try. I remain, as always,_

_Yours,  
Credence Barebone_

_******* _

_February 1927  
Percival,_

_You put the cat among the owls writing to the kid. Hasn’t shut up about your letter for the last three days. I keep finding discarded drafts in the fireplace. Absolutely unreadable. He is awful at writing with a quill. There are ink smudges everywhere._

_Since you will not stop writing to me I feel I ought to ask after your health. If you tell me that you are fine but then mention working at all hours I shall come back to New York & hex you. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? Tell me about everything you’ve done since we departed. I am unaccountably worried. Tho perhaps it’s not so unaccountable. You know how I feel & it is not necessary to discuss at length. _

_I have enclosed clippings from the Daily Prophet which may be of interest to you. There have been sightings of Grindelwald’s people in Scotland & ‘For The Greater Good’ was written on a wall in Diagon Alley. Aurors have been asked to patrol Knockturn Alley. I have taken several shifts myself. I am sorry to talk business & am sure that you are keeping up to date with events, but it reassures me to know that you are hearing things from someone who will actually tell you what you want to know. _

_As usual if you find this irritating no need to reply.  
Theseus Scamander_

_******* _

_March 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_Thank you for the gift! I never seem to expect your kindnesses but I am forever grateful. The pens are quite beautiful. I have always had a fondness for green, though I do not think I ever spoke of it. And I have never had such a luxury as a Radite pen. We only ever used hard rubber before. (And I like them much better than Mr. Scamander’s quills.)_

_Since you asked, I will tell you that my health is much improved. I have plenty of time to think and to rest. Mr. Scamander is insistent that I practice magic even though I do not have a wand. He says that once he has established an identity for me, he will take me to see Mr. Ollivander so that we can get a wand for me. I cannot wait. ~~I only wish you~~_

_Please do not take my crossing-outs as an offense. I am not terribly good at words, and I do not want you to think ill of me, Mr. Graves. I have only admiration for you. I know that I am not much and do not have much to offer, but I remain—_

_Yours,  
Credence Barebone_

_******* _

_March 1927  
Percival,_

_I don’t know if I should thank you or hex you or both. On the one hand, I have stopped having to get ink out of the table which is a relief. On the other hand, I find gifts inappropriate. Do I need to remind you of his age?_

_Tho it’s made him happy. Smiles are still quite rare in this house. I am far too moody to be around such a sensitive kid. Business follows me home nightly. What a mess—I only hope that things are better in America. They’re talking about war, real war. How the hell did we end up here again?_

_~~I wish~~ ~~I wish you were~~ Fuck it. I wish you were here. I can’t go back into the trenches without you.   
Theseus _

_******* _

_May 1927  
Percival,_

_In answer to your last letter, I’ve enclosed a photograph. Credence doesn’t want you to see it. I’m of the opinion that you’d want it since you couldn’t be here in person._

_It’s 15 inches, flexible fir, dragon heartstring core. Gorgeous thing. Fits his hand perfectly. He won’t put the thing down & I don’t blame him. You & I wouldn’t have put our wands down either.  
Theseus _

_******* _

_May 1927  
Did Mr. Scamander send you that photograph? I may kill him if he did. Please burn it._

_******* _

_May 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_I know that was a waste of parchment and I am very sorry. I was embarrassed to know that you saw the picture. I look like a child. It is shameful. But if you have kept it, I hope it does make you glad to know that I finally have a wand. And you should probably take the photograph down just in case someone were to see it. I am not supposed to be alive, remember?_

_My name is Credence Fairfax now. The Fairfax family is a very old one and very respectable and well-known, but so very large that no one will notice one more “around the edge” as Mr. Scamander puts it. I think the name is strange, but I like it better than my old one._

_Of course I can’t attend Hogwarts, but Mr. Scamander has made arrangements with a friend of Newt’s. I have not met Professor Dumbledore yet but at the winter holiday he will come and tutor me in the things I cannot learn from books. There is so much magic in the world, Mr. Graves. I never imagined any of this._

_Since I know Mr. Scamander has not really expressed these sentiments for himself and does not know where I stand, I will say truly that I wish I were with you to see such marvels. I miss you more than I expected. I hope someday to come back to New York and see you again. But until then, I am—_

_Yours,  
Credence Fairfax_

_******* _

_May 1927_  
YOU PUT THE PHOTOGRAPH ON YOUR DESK AT WORK?   
I AM COMING TO NEW YORK 

_******* _

_August 1927  
Percival,_

_Sorry I haven’t written. I wish I’d come to New York three months ago, even if I meant to curse you for that photograph. Grindelwald’s followers made a move & I was called to Bulgaria to help in the fighting. There was no time for letters. You know how it is in a war._

_The man himself has vanished & the Ministry has withdrawn Aurors from the front lines of combat in case he attempts a return to England. I am only glad that I have not been asked to assist in the deployment of Dementors for the protection of the borders. I could not & more importantly would not. _

_On a lighter note, Credence was happy to have me home. & I was glad to be back with him. I did not realize how much I missed him until I came in & he nearly fell down the stairs in his hurry to say hello. He got very shy after that for a bit but I put him to rights with many reassurances that I was as glad to see him as he was to see me. _

_You are much missed. Tho he does not speak of it Credence waits on the post with more impatience than I do. & you know how impatient I am. Did you simply not write to him for three months? I suppose you’ve been busy too, even if your President has refused to send American Aurors to us. Of course very little news comes out of MACUSA because you Americans are so damn secretive but I can read between the lines of the New York Ghost as well as the Daily Prophet. There’s a civil war in your country & I wish I could be there to fight beside you._

_Stay safe Percival. For Credence if not for yourself.  
Theseus_

_******* _

_August 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_I am so glad to hear from you. Theseus is much concerned with your health and so I have worried as well. He tells me that he is trying to convince the Ministry of Magic to send his Aurors to you because there is fighting in America. (The way he says ‘America’ is so funny, as if we are a small country. Where in America? I hope not in New York.)_

_We are becoming friends, I hope. I have turned twenty, at least we believe. There was not really a celebration but Theseus was certainly cheerful and took me to dinner. I am not one for crowds as they make me very nervous, but it was a good day. Theseus does not like crowds much either, for all he is very outgoing and friendly, so it was fine to have some quiet._

_Professor Dumbledore will be meeting with me soon to discuss my magic. It is much better under control these days and the Obscurus does not appear so frequently. I hope someday soon I will be able to show you all of what I learn. You were my first teacher and I want to make you proud. As your student, I am ever—_

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_December 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_It is difficult to believe that we have been writing each other for nearly a year. I am always excited when the post arrives. Theseus’ old owl comes in through the window onto the table and there is a mad scramble for the letters. I admit that my enthusiasm is perhaps excessive, as the teapot has not been quite the same since I near leaped across the table to reach your letter. Theseus teases me by holding your letters out of reach. Unfortunately for him, I am the taller and so that does not work well for him. I am sure that you are aware of how ticklish Theseus can be._

_To answer the question from your previous letter: things continue to go well. I have met with some of the other professors from Hogwarts to learn more of their areas of expertise. To my surprise I am the best at Charms, though my wand core ought to make me better at hexes and jinxes. Professor Dumbledore calls me “a study in contradictions”. A funny thought: I think of myself as quite whole. ~~I credit you with that~~ _

_I do wish to speak of some serious matters. I took a copy of the Ghost from Theseus’ study when he was out because I could not stand being unaware of what happens in America. Was the battle in New Orleans as terrible as the paper claimed? I worry for you. Please do not tell me not to worry. That would be wrong of you when I remain, as always—_

_Yours,  
Credence _

_******* _

_December 1927  
Percival,_

_I should be more careful leaving out important papers. I’d no idea that Credence had a copy of the Ghost until your last letter. We should be ashamed of ourselves trying to keep him in the dark. He deserves to know what’s happening, tho I hope Grindelwald remains unaware of him. From now on I’ll be plain with him._

_You should be more careful as well. The news from New Orleans doesn’t make me happy but I cannot be spared here to go & look in on you. I don’t know what I would do if I heard you’d been hurt. I’ll be honest and ask you to stay safe for my sake, Percival.   
Theseus_

_******* _

_December 1927  
Mr. Graves,_

_Merry Christmas!_

_I hope that Theseus’ owl did not lose track of the package containing your gift. It is small, and perhaps not quite right since I know that your house has a Wampus cat for a mascot and not a lion, but I thought of you when I saw the cufflinks. Theseus made a production about the fact that they’re meant for alumni of Gryffindor House at Hogwarts, but I do not give a fig. From what I know of Gryffindor House and what I know of you, if you had been English you would have been the best of all possible Gryffindors._

_Theseus and I are spending the season in fine fashion. He has many friends in London and they are all eager to meet me. They look at me with some admiration and talk about me as if I am someone important. I do not like that much, and far prefer the days spent at home with Theseus. We are comfortable now. He is affectionate in so many ways. Perhaps I am too drawn to him. ~~I think I feel the same about him as I do about y~~_

_Please promise me that you will partake in some traditions of the season. I know that the Goldsteins do not celebrate Christmas, but surely you might invite them over for an ordinary dinner. I do not like to think of you alone and melancholy during a season which is supposed to bring joy. Think of me as if I am there, for I am as always—_

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_February 1928  
Dear Percival,_

_Sorry I haven’t written since December. Your last letter shook me. ‘My dear Theseus’—you added a comma in the middle. ‘My dear, Theseus’—changes the meaning. Did you intend it? ~~I hope you did~~ _

_Things seem to have quieted in America, at least. There’s great fighting in Egypt at the present & I will be sent to oversee a detachment of British Aurors. America won’t be supporting & I am grateful for that, for you’ll be safe. The fighting is to be fierce. They say Dementors are to be sent in support as well, tho I dearly hope not. Those things are a danger to friend & foe alike._

_You needn’t worry on my account. I must come home to Credence. Merlin’s Beard, I have gone straight beyond pride & affection for the kid into something else. I see why you were taken with him, Percival, I truly do. I’d give Credence the world if he asked for it & you hadn’t already given it. But I’m no hypocrite. If you want it you should see your way clear to Credence. I shall keep my hands to myself.  
Theseus_

_******* _

_February 1928  
 ~~Mr. Graves~~ ~~P~~ ~~Mr~~ Percival,_

_It is too strange to call you by a familiar name. But I will, because you asked it. I keep turning it over and over like a treasure. I have wanted to say that for a long time, but I was afraid that you would not like it. Since you do, I will continue to use it._

_This month in New York is miserable. Leave work early if you decide to walk home and do your best to stay dry. I know you have lived in New York longer than I have been alive and know the weather well, but I worry all the same. I know what Theseus knows: you do not like to take care of yourself. For our sakes please do. It would crush him to know that you hurt yourself, even unintentionally._

_I hope to see you soon, Percival. Until that time, I remain—_

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_February 1928  
Percival, _

_I don’t know what you said to him, but Credence has done nothing but smile since your last letter. He stares off into space like he’s lovesick. Is he? I hope that he is. He deserves someone good. So do you. ~~I love him~~ ~~I love you~~ You’re both dear to me  & I want to see you happy. If we can get him to New York, I wish you both the best.  
Theseus_

_******* _

_February 1928  
Percival, _

_I do not know what you said to him, but Theseus has done nothing but frown since your last letter. Please write to him. He misses your correspondence, I can tell._

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_March 1928  
Percival you can’t just say things like that. You can’t have things both ways. I know Credence is chasing you now for he’s told me as much & I wish him all the luck in the world because you are hell to catch. But you can’t say that you want our friendship unchanged. That kiss on the docks was ill-advised at best & I should never have done it. We were not friends first we were lovers & that means things have to change. Make Credence happy, that’s all I ask. If I have to let go of both men I love then at least you two will have each other. For the love of God don’t write back. _

_Yours—  
Theseus_

_******* _

_March 1928  
Percival, _

_I still have not heard from you. The Ghost has no news and I am sure Theseus would tell me if something happened. He is no happier but he looked me in the eye yesterday and that was something, though I still feel very alone. I miss ~~you~~ your words._

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_March 1928  
Percival,_

_Please write. I feel as if I have done something horribly wrong. I do not know what to do._

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_March 1928  
I miss you. I am sorry for any offense. Please write to me._

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_April 1928  
I love you. I am—_

_Yours,  
Credence_

_******* _

_April 1928  
Percival,_

_You fucking self-sacrificing idiot. Do you ever think of anyone but yourself? Did you think what you not writing might do to Credence? I have told him everything & he is absolutely distraught. He thought for A MONTH that you hated him because you were trying to let go of us both & didn’t bother to write either of us until that last letter. A MONTH. I can’t believe you. _

_Tho it’s funny because I can. Recall what you said to me when you left me the first time? It was just like this. ‘For your own good’, that’s what you said. You son of a bitch. You’re not the only one with a heart that can be broken. & you’ve certainly shattered Credence’s heart. _

_Don’t write to him again. You’ve done enough damage.  
Theseus Scamander_

_******* _

_June 1928  
Dear Mr. Graves,_

_I am sorry to start off this letter so formally, but I am not quite sure of where we stand at present and so will be brief. I have argued with Theseus at length and he agrees at last that I should ask you to come to London to see us. Regardless of the last words between the three of us, I still miss you more than should be possible. And I know that Theseus feels the same way._

_Since there is no immediate crisis, and you have some time, please come. We have space and will keep you as a guest as long as you like. Please write to let us know if you will come and when._

_I am still, despite everything—_

_Yours truly,  
Credence_

And now here Percival is, walking down the gangplank to the docks. Even at a distance, he can see the tall figures of Theseus and Credence waiting for him. It doesn’t take as long as he expects to reach them: all at once he’s standing in front of them and he can’t breathe because it feels like it’s been centuries since he saw them. Theseus, self-assured and a little more worn than Percival remembers; Credence, standing straight and beautiful and proud. 

For a second they’re all floundering, and then they manage to sort out handshakes and greetings and nobody point-blank hexes anyone else so things are fine. Percival feels like he’s caught in a haze where there are only moments, flashes of clarity in a dizzy whirl of nervousness and tension. Credence catching Percival’s wrist for a moment and giving him a dazzling smile when he sees the lion-shaped cufflinks that Percival wears. Theseus clapping Percival on the shoulder as if his last letter hadn’t been entirely-deserved vitriol. Credence looking at Theseus with an adoration that makes Percival’s stomach hurt, and Theseus looking back with the smile that he used to give Percival. 

They dine at a quiet restaurant in No-Maj London. Percival can’t remember a single bite of whatever he ate, too concerned with watching Theseus and Credence. They are so familiar that it’s painful, and Percival is caught between sick jealousy and delight at their happiness. None of it is overt, but Percival can see it plain as day. 

Credence does his best to keep up as Theseus and Percival talk business, discussing state secrets that they couldn’t share through letters. Percival unveils the news that Dementors are to hunt for Grindelwald’s supporters in America, an item which leaves Theseus aghast. And Theseus, for his part, explains the failure of the secret attack launched on Nurmengard earlier this month. Between them, the picture they paint is not pretty. 

But there’s some levity as they return to Theseus’ house, as Credence details the best of his misadventures learning magic. The story of the chairs that did the Charleston leaves Percival in stitches and Theseus wiping tears from his eyes.

They’re sitting in the living room, Credence folded in one armchair, Percival in the other, and Theseus sprawled akimbo on the couch. It’s comfortable. Yet Percival is unsettled, because he feels like things are about to go wrong.

“—and _that’s_ why I’m not allowed Wingardium Leviosa anymore,” Credence finishes. 

“The fork is still stuck in the ceiling. As a reminder,” Theseus says, still laughing. 

Percival shakes his head. “I can’t believe it.”

Credence points at the dining room door. “Go look,” he says. 

“Wait,” Theseus says, when Percival moves to rise. “Credence—I think this is the moment.”

Fuck.

Slowly, Percival sits back down. Theseus has sat up and Credence is half folded in on himself. “I’m curious now,” Percival says, trying to be light.

“Look,” Theseus says, exchanging a significant glance with Credence, “you know why we wrote to you and asked you to come.”

“Why I wrote to him,” Credence says softly. 

Theseus sighs. “Right. You wrote. I wouldn’t have.”

“And I would have deserved that,” Percival puts in.

“No, you would not,” Credence says, surprisingly sharp. Theseus really is rubbing off on Credence, then. “You shouldn’t be punished for—feeling things.”

Theseus snorts. “Like I said. I’m no hypocrite. If you deserve some kind of punishment, Percival, then I deserve ten times that. Worst you ever did was kiss him.”

The floor drops out from under Percival. “What did you—”

“What do you think?” Theseus asks. He folds his arms. “You weren’t exactly there.”

“I felt the same way about him as about you,” Credence says. He bites his lip, watching Percival with those ridiculous beautiful eyes. “And you didn’t want me. I thought.”

He can’t do it. Percival stands up fast and takes two steps toward the door. “I did,” he says unsteadily. “I wanted both of you. And I couldn’t choose. You were across a fucking ocean and I’m good enough for neither of you. At least you’re happy now.”

Credence is on his feet. “I’m not,” he says plaintively, “and neither is Theseus.”

Much slower, Theseus stands up. “Are you blind?” he asks, glaring at Percival. “I don’t know why the hell I still feel like this after everything, but it’s not like I ever let go of you.”

“…what?” Percival isn’t quite sure of where he’s standing anymore. 

“We both want you,” Credence says. He glances sideways at Theseus, who nods. They’re holding hands, Percival notices, as if they’re holding onto a lifeline. 

Theseus looks tense. “That’s _us_. Both of us.”

“Together,” Percival says. He doesn’t quite know what to do. He feels frozen, stuck as stiff as if he’d been hit with a Body-Bind Curse. 

“Yes,” Theseus says. He makes a face and some of the tension dissipates. “It’s a little awkward for pillow talk, honestly.”

Credence nudges Theseus lightly with one hip. “Which is why I was the one who brought it up,” he says with a small smirk. “You’re too scared.”

Theseus rolls his eyes and looks back at Percival. “So. What about it? Trial run, call it. We aren’t happy—you go back to New York and Credence and I figure things out here.”

“This is a bad decision,” Percival says weakly.

“We’re all very guilty of those,” Credence fires back. 

“And you’re sure.” Percival’s head is spinning. He might topple over at any second.

Credence nods. “Yes,” he says softly. “I don’t think either of us would say anything if we weren’t.”

Percival is nearly overwhelmed. Theseus must see it because his hand lands on Percival’s shoulder. “If you don’t want it, say no,” he says. 

“I don’t deserve this,” Percival says. The words are clumsy but he doesn’t have any others. “I don’t deserve either of you. You’re _happy_ —”

“And we’d be happier with you,” Credence says. 

Between one blink and the next, Credence moves. His hands are on Percival’s face and then—oh, hell, how could Percival have been missing something he’d never even had? Credence isn’t showing any restraint at all. What has Theseus been _teaching_ him? He’s demanding, the kiss hot and wet and messy as if they’ve done this a hundred times instead of just barely once before. By the time that Credence leans back and lets go, Percival is fairly sure that he’s died and gone to Heaven.

“Good for you,” Theseus says to Credence, actually _smirking_. “Knocked him right out.”

“Are you _sure_ about this,” Percival says, because he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. 

Theseus rounds on him and he looks utterly furious. “If I weren’t sure,” he snaps, “you wouldn’t be in England. Do you _want_ me to—mmph!” 

He’s cut off by Credence turning and crashing into him with a kiss that must have felt like getting hit with a Stunning Spell. It’s not as long as the one Credence just gave Percival. It’s a shut-up kiss, and when Credence pulls back he and Theseus just stare at each other for a long moment. And then Theseus shakes his head and looks away. 

“Come on,” Credence says, turning to Percival and taking his hand. He still looks nervous, but deeply determined. “Bed.”

And who exactly is Percival to refuse?

He’s not really sure how they get to the stairs, but he’s halfway up before he returns to himself a little and thinks about what’s happening here. “Wait,” he says, and Credence, a step above, stops in his tracks. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know, shouldn’t we talk about this?”

“We should,” Theseus says. He’s on the step behind Percival, just low enough that when he leans forward his forehead naturally comes to rest right between Percival’s shoulder blades. “Later. Let’s worry about that later.”

“Later,” Percival says, taking a deep breath. “Theseus is right.”

And that smile, the brilliant and rare smile that looks like the _sun_ to Percival, is enough to convince him that this is worth—again—throwing away all the reasons this is a bad choice. He follows Credence, because he couldn’t do anything else if he tried. 

Up the stairs and down the hall Credence pulls him, Theseus divesting them of their clothes as they go. It’s just jackets, really, but in the moment that Credence is fumbling at the doorknob Theseus is already trying to get Percival out of his vest. “Too many fucking layers,” he mutters, pushing Percival up against the wall and pulling at buttons. 

“I’ve heard that one before,” Percival says with a faint smile. “But I think we’re meant to get out of these, this time.”

Theseus’ fingers stop and he looks up at Percival. He doesn’t say anything, only sighs and leans forward into Percival. His hands are flat on Percival’s chest; Percival wraps his arms around Theseus’ broad shoulders and closes his eyes. 

After a moment, Theseus shakes himself. He steps back and Percival rouses himself. He looks to the side to see Credence watching them with a small smile, leaning against the open doorframe. The boy doesn’t say anything, just backs up, letting Theseus and Percival follow him in. Theseus snaps his fingers and a clearly-enchanted lamp pops to life, spilling golden light across the room. The bed is surprisingly large, big enough that three men sharing one space aren’t going to have much trouble. 

In the process of backing up, Credence pulls off his own shirt, gets tangled in it, and lets out a panicked yelp as he hits the bed with the back of his legs and topples over, landing flat on his back. The springs of the mattress squeak indignantly at him, and Percival laughs. “Theseus. You have money. Why haven’t you gone for something better?”

Theseus drops down to sit by Credence, causing another set of squeaks. “I wasn’t really sleeping here much until Credence got here.”

Percival sits down more slowly on Credence’s other side. “Is this sleeping, or—” he starts.

Credence raises his head with a positively murderous look. 

“I think that answers your question,” Theseus says dryly. 

“I just don’t want—”

“Look,” Credence says, “Theseus has shown me a lot. I’m not exactly a blushing bride.”

Well. That settles that question, even if Credence _is_ a little red in the cheeks right now. “All right,” Percival says. He turns and, without further ado, leans down to kiss Credence. It’s a clumsy angle and, righting himself, Percival ends up on top of Credence, straddling him, arms bracketing the boy’s head. 

Credence blinks slowly up at him, reaching up to tuck a loose lock of hair behind Percival’s ear. “I like you,” he says softly. 

“So do I,” Theseus says, and when Percival glance at him, Theseus looks a little sad, a little melancholy. “Even if I shouldn’t.”

“Stop it,” Credence whispers, looking up at Theseus. He looks like he might cry, and that’s not really all right with Percival at all. “Please. Please, just…if you don’t want…”

“Shhhh.” Gently, Percival rests his finger on Credence’s lips. “He’s just bad at having feelings.”

Theseus shifts and the bed creaks slightly. This is going to be a noisy night, isn’t it? “That is the pot calling the fucking kettle black, Percival,” he says. One of his hands is in Percival’s hair and Percival shivers when Theseus kisses the side of his head, moving down to kiss his jawline. He tilts his head, to give Theseus better access, and Theseus takes the invitation. 

Credence shifts between Percival’s legs, hips rolling artlessly. A fire starts burning low in Percival’s stomach and he grinds down a little. Credence’s eyes go very wide and he sounds breathless. “Let me…” 

“What are you waiting for?” Theseus purrs, right on Percival’s skin. “Give him what he wants.”

Percival obeys. He snaps his fingers and just like that their clothes, all of them, are gone. There’s a lot of skin, Percival is stunned at his own daring, and it’s clear that he isn’t the only one temporarily taken aback. “Where did you Vanish those?” Credence asks.

“Into non-being, which is to say, everything,” Theseus recites. At the twin looks of incredulousness from Percival and Credence, he rolls his eyes. “Ravenclaw Tower riddle answer, used it to break in and visit my girlfriend when I was a seventh-year. Can we _please_ keep going?”

Three bodies are _complicated_ , Percival decides. And none of them are small men, and the bed complains a lot about their weight. But they sort themselves out, helped along by the fact that Credence is absolutely pliant and willing to do whatever anyone wants as long as someone is touching him. Percival is perfectly happy to never take his hands _off_ Credence, and Theseus seems equally happy whether he’s biting kisses into Percival’s shoulders or sliding his hands over the long lines of Credence’s body. 

One deep kiss turns into another and another, traded between them a little unevenly. Percival finds Theseus behind him, broad chest against his back, and Credence in his arms. He’s well aware of where this is going, because they’re all hard and Theseus isn’t a patient man. What he doesn’t expect is for Theseus to whisper in his ear, “We’ve done this often enough. Let Credence have a chance.”

Percival turns his head, enough that he can just see Theseus. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Theseus says, fingers ghosting over Percival’s hip. 

“What are you two talking about?” Credence asks, drawing back a bit so he can see both Theseus and Percival. His eyes are wide, and there’s a haze in them that makes Percival think that Credence is already a little far gone. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Percival says. Before he can lose his nerve.

Credence’s jaw actually drops. “You _what_?”

“He means it,” Theseus says, reaching over Percival to cup Credence’s cheek. The way he treats the boy is so—terrifyingly gentle. He’s never been that way with Percival, never, and to see that Theseus so clearly loves Credence as Percival does is the best of discoveries.

“Oh,” Credence says. He looks stark and a little frightened, but he’s smiling. “Oh. I…I would like that, very much.”

Percival lets go of Credence and sits up, with Theseus following suit. “I haven’t done this in a while,” he says to Theseus. He drags his thumb over Theseus’ lower lip, relishing the way that Theseus shivers. “Help me out?”

Theseus nips at the tip of Percival’s finger, licking at the pad of his thumb. “Fingers or mouth?” he asks, and licks at Percival’s palm. 

“Fingers,” Percival says roughly, “I’d like to kiss you after you’re done and I’m not doing that when your mouth has been—”

“I get it. Though…it’s not like we haven’t done that before,” Theseus says, smirking. Credence makes a face at that, and Percival feels the same way. They were a hell of a lot younger then.

But before Percival can say something in reply, Theseus is flipping him over, face down on the bed. Percival accepts it, pulling a pillow under his chest, and stretches out, relaxing as best he can. “I want to feel it,” he says over his shoulder. 

“Oh, you will,” Theseus promises in a low voice. The mattress creaks as he straddles Percival’s back, working his way down Percival’s back with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Percival shivers and grinds down a little. The friction feels good, especially with Theseus’ weight on top of him. 

“What should I do?” Credence asks, sounding a little lost.

Percival turns his head, looking at Credence. He’s sitting up, watching them with dark eyes. His erection looks nearly painful, and Percival throbs a little at the sight. “If you want to last, don’t touch yourself,” he says. It seems a little cruel, when it’s clear that Credence so badly wants release.

“He’s got stamina for days,” Theseus says, sliding down between Percival’s legs. Their skin sticks together and Percival hisses at the sweet sting when Theseus moves. “I should know.”

The reminder should hurt, but instead, all Percival can imagine is the two of them tangled together. It’s a wonderful vision. “If you can manage it,” he says, “take care of yourself.” 

“And keep him busy,” Theseus adds. For a second, his elbow digs into Percival’s upper thigh as he reaches over to the bedside table to pick up his wand. “He moves too much.”

With a small smile, Credence leans in and kisses Percival. “So does Theseus,” he says into Percival’s mouth, to a noise of irritation from Theseus. 

Percival runs his fingers through Credence’s long hair. “And I suppose you do too?”

“Never,” Credence murmurs. Belying his words, he is moving, stroking himself, and Percival rather wishes he could help. But it would give Theseus too much satisfaction if Percival moved, so he holds still. 

He hears Theseus mutter two spells. The first is a general cleaning spell—because there’s nothing more convenient than magic—and the second is one generally used for oiling hinges and similar tasks, which has been extensively modified by generations of creative wizards for use in the bedroom. It’s all the warning Percival gets before one of Theseus’ fingers pushes into him. Percival can’t stop the reflexive jerk of his hips and he doesn’t even try to break off his moan.

“Fuck, Percival,” Theseus says, slowly working Percival open, “have you touched yourself once since we broke off?” The stretch hurts and Percival tries to relax, to let Theseus in. 

“Not really,” Percival rasps. He grips Credence’s shoulder, forcing himself to hold still. “What the hell was I going to do, think about you?”

Theseus inhales sharply. “You want to know something?” he asks, low and rough. “I did. I thought about you, every single time.”

“He says your name sometimes,” Credence says raggedly. His breath is hot on Percival’s cheek. The rocking of his body, rhythmic as he thrusts into his own hand, the _sound_ of it—Percival can’t help twisting his hips, trying to take what Theseus isn’t giving him.

He isn’t truly ready—and he asked for it, yes, but it doesn’t take the burn away—when Theseus pushes a second finger into him. Percival cries out and arches his back, nails sinking into Credence’s shoulder. A moment later both of Credence’s hands are in Percival’s hair and he’s kissing him, sticky wetness spilling between their bodies. 

“Oh, hell,” Percival hears Theseus say distantly. “That’s just not _fair_.”

“Very little is,” Percival manages to say, not releasing Credence’s shoulder. They break apart, both of them panting. Percival is barely holding himself together. But he refuses to come just yet. 

Credence’s body is flushed, sweat cooling on his skin, and his hair is damp. “You can take your chance next,” he says pertly, in Theseus’ general direction. A glance shows that he’s still hard. What Percival wouldn’t give at this point in his life to be able to get away with that.

There’s a moment’s pause, and then Percival starts, “Are you—”

“It’s going to hurt like hell,” Theseus says, “but you’re good. Credence?”

“I’m good,” Credence says with a faint smile. He sits up, and as Theseus withdraws his fingers from Percival—leaving him feeling shivered and empty—Credence kisses Theseus thoroughly. It’s a singularly beautiful sight, watching the two of them together, and Percival feels an indefinable sense of security when Credence murmurs in Theseus’ ear, “Tell me what to do. You know what he likes.”

“He really likes it hard,” Theseus says, moving away and reclining at full length beside Percival on the bed. “And I mean hard. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we aren’t exactly gentle with each other.”

Percival turns as far as he can to look up at Credence. “You won’t break me,” he says. 

Credence presses a hand against Percival’s back. He doesn’t answer, only moves so that he’s out of Percival’s line of sight. He follows Theseus’ suit and whispers the lubrication spell. Percival forces himself to relax again, and his breath still hitches when Credence pushes into him. He told Theseus he wanted to feel it and he does, hissing and biting back a groan. 

“He’s fine,” Theseus says, when Credence pauses, obviously concerned. 

“Are you?” Credence asks. He rubs a reassuring circle on Percival’s back, and it’s strange, because Percival had never missed that before—had never known that he missed it. He likes it. It feels right. 

“’m fine,” Percival says. He looks sideways at Theseus, who’s lazily stroking himself, watching Percival and Credence hungrily. Percival can’t resist a quip: “Enjoying the show?”

Theseus laughs, throwing his head back and watching the two of them through half-lidded eyes. “I had no idea how hot you’d both be until I started watching,” he says. “Go on, Credence. Fuck him.”

Percival braces himself, and half a second later Credence moves and Percival is seeing stars. He pulls very nearly all the way out and slams in again and Percival isn’t sure what he’s saying but he might be swearing and he might be telling Credence he loves him but he’s hearing nothing but white noise. With every move that Credence makes, Percival’s vision practically whites out. 

He looks to his side and sees Theseus watching. Without thinking, Percival reaches out with an open hand—and Theseus takes it. 

And then Credence hits exactly the right spot inside him. Percival can’t hold himself together anymore. He falls apart completely, only white noise in his ears, body rigid, hand tight around Theseus’, all the air gone from his lungs. 

Dizzy with sensation—Credence hasn’t stopped moving—Percival looks at Theseus again. They lock eyes. Theseus’ rhythm matches Credence’s, and Percival isn’t sure who’s setting it. “Come for me, Theseus,” he says, and something must have been exactly right because Theseus’ head falls back and he bucks up into his fist, coming as hard as Percival’s ever seen him. 

Half a second later, Credence lets out a shuddering moan and falls still, cum spilling inside of Percival. And he doesn’t withdraw himself, only collapses boneless on top of Percival. He’s trembling, chest pressed to Percival’s back, heavy and unmoving. Theseus, after a moment, rolls over and presses himself against the pair of them, arm over Credence and forehead against Percival’s. The room smells of sweat and sex and Percival isn’t sure when he last felt so safe. 

Eventually they do have to move, because things are getting sticky and not in a pleasant way. For some reason, Percival manages to come to his senses first, and remembers that “Evanesco” is the spell they want to clean up. But none of them are going anywhere. Somehow, it ends up like this: 

Percival is in the middle, with Theseus on his right and Credence on his left. Credence is curled up with his head under Percival’s chin and Theseus, chest to Percival’s back, has an arm over both of them. They’re all tired—Percival would actually go so far as to use the word _sleepy_ —but he has time to say one thing, before they’re all gone. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, pressing a kiss to Credence’s hair. 

“Oh,” Credence says in a very small voice. “You…do?”

“I wouldn’t come all the way to London for someone I didn’t,” Percival says. 

Theseus doesn’t say anything at all. 

Percival rolls over slightly, so that he can just see Theseus. For the first time that Percival can remember, since they were on top of each other in a muddy trench in Passchendaele, Theseus looks lost and hurt. “And I love you, Theseus Scamander,” he says. 

“You and your sentimentality,” Theseus says, with an uncertain smile. 

“Even if I’ve done a bad job showing it, I love you, and I will _never_ hurt you again,” Percival says, turning as much as he can so he can see Theseus properly. 

If Theseus were the kind of man who cried, he would be now. Instead, he nods jerkily and kisses the side of Percival’s jaw, which is the best he can reach right now. 

“I love you, too,” Credence whispers into Percival’s neck. “I didn’t…you showed me the person I’m meant to be. I can never thank you enough.”

“Ah, fuck.” Theseus exhales and says, “I’d be a bloody idiot if I didn’t say I love you, Percival. Always have, even if I’m just as bad at showing it. World’s a mess and somehow you’re the only fucking thing I’m sure of in it all.”

“And if you don’t want to stay, we…won’t stop you going,” Credence says bravely. He sounds so very young, right now, huddled in Percival’s arms. 

Theseus’ voice is soft. “I won’t say don’t go, because it’s you,” he says. “You never do like to stick around. If you’ve got to go home…”

Percival swallows hard, blinking back a few hot tears of his own. What has he ever done to deserve these two men? “The road home led straight to your door,” he says. “I’m yours. Both of you. I swear, I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND the history note!
> 
> For the vernacular of Theseus’ letters, I actually read a lot of letters sent by soldiers during World War I. Lots of men used a period instead of a colon when writing times, and “all of a sameness kind of thing” is a description used by one man of trench life. 
> 
> Fountain pens! [Up until the mid-1920s, pens were made of hard black rubber](http://www.richardspens.com/?page=ref/design/chasing.htm). [In 1920s, Radite (that is, celluloid) became the more popular material to use](http://www.richardspens.com/?page=ref/misc/significant.htm). 
> 
> The Fairfax family is, yes, a shoutout to Mrs. Fairfax of _Howl’s Moving Castle_. Now imagine poor Credence meeting Howl… 
> 
> Also, [the history of mattresses](https://www.mattressmart.ca/History-of-the-Bed). An innerspring mattress which squeaks when an adult man trips over his feet and falls on it is perfectly appropriate!
> 
> “The pot calling the kettle black”—of uncertain origin, probably Spanish, but DEFINITELY a common phrase in the English language by 1928.
> 
> I actually did some mild (HA) research on the male refractory period to make sure I wasn’t going over the top with Credence’s particularly short one. He’s definitely not unusual in having one of a few minutes, but there is something interesting here—and bear with me—science has no idea why refractory periods act the way they do. [This is a PDF from the Wiley Online Library on the subject](http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/bju.12011/pdf), which is science-jargon-dense and pretty much boils down to this: we haven’t studied this enough, and the variation in times is at the intersection of many, MANY factors. Men can maintain an erection after ejaculation, and young men are best at going multiple rounds with only brief recovery. Credence is perfectly plausible, honestly. 
> 
> And here’s a word for you: “hot” as reference to something exciting sexual desire is from the EIGHTEENTH CENTURY. I didn’t see that one coming!
> 
> Pun, of course, intended.
> 
> AND ONE MORE THING, related to the pun. “Cum” as a noun appears on record in the 1920s, while the word as a verb doesn’t appear until the 1970s. “Come” as a verb in the sexual sense, however, pops up in 1650. So. Yeah. Historically Accurate Sexual Slang.


End file.
